


Moon High

by SushiOwl



Series: Pigments and Pentacles [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You did that purposely, didn’t you?” </p><p>“Of course I did,” Stiles said, putting his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “I know about that possessive streak of yours, and I like to see it come out.” He started to pull Peter back towards the bar.</p><p>“Do you now? Do you want me to stake a claim? I could jerk off on your face right here, but we’ll probably get arrested.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moon High

**Author's Note:**

> Not edited at all! :D

"Hey, Peter," Carina said one day, and Peter looked up from his drawing to regard her. "Do you want to run with me this full moon?"

Peter blinked, sitting up straighter. The shop was empty of customers, but Stiles had turned around in his chair to pay attention to the conversation.

"Do you have a place you go to?" Peter asked, and Carina nodded. "Where?"

"Just outside the city. It’s a ten acre plot with a little house on it. It's mostly trees. It belongs to my grandparents, but they're in hospice now." Carina pulled her feet underneath her in the chair and gave Peter an expectant gaze. “I run there every month, but I figured it would be more fun with two wolves.”

Before Peter could answer, Stiles skipped over and started poking Peter right in his tattoo. “Do it, do it,” he said, over and over, and Peter frowned at him.

“Do you want to keep that hand?” he asked, grabbing it and catching one of his fingers with his human teeth, causing Stiles to squeal loudly. Stiles skittered away when he was released, and Peter looked back at Carina. “Yes, I would like to run with you. I haven’t be able to run on a full moon for a long time.” 

Carina grinned in response. “Cool.”

Peter went back to his drawing, only looking up again when Stiles came over and leaned onto him. “Something I can help you with?” he asked, looking up at his ridiculous human mate and putting his arm around his thin waist. 

“Do you think I could be turned?” Stiles asked. 

Well, if there was ever a question to make Peter’s brain come to a screeching halt, that was it. He cleared his throat, mind coming back online. “Do… Do you want to be turned?” He couldn’t deny the appeal of it. He loved every human bit of Stiles, and he would love each werewolf bit of him too. 

“No,” Stiles said.

There was a part of Peter that was was disappointed, but a larger part of him was relieved. Attempting to turn a human sometimes ended in death, and Peter was not prepared to gamble with Stiles’s life.

“It came to mind because you just bit me a little. I’m just curious if my magic makes me immune,” Stiles went on, lifting a hand to drag his nails through Peter’s hair. “Lydia was immune to the Bite because she’s a banshee.”

“True,” Peter agreed.

“Wait, you bit someone?” Carina asked, and Peter looked over to find her gazing at them with surprise on her face. “You bit a banshee.”

Peter regarded Stiles, and they had a silent conversation. Who was going to tell her? What all were they going to tell her? She’d been an employee of Late Night Tats for a couple months now, and she’d never given them a reason to distrust her.

“A few years ago, I was nearly burned alive,” Peter started, and Carina stared at him with wide eyes. He told her about the coma, about coming out of it deranged. He told her about Laura, Scott, his spree of revenge killings, his violent death by fire and throat slashing and his rebirth. 

“How did you come back to life?” Carina asked through her fingers. She’d covered her mouth near the start of the explanation.

“Twenty percent necromancy and eighty percent luck,” Peter told her, and she looked like she didn’t want to, but she smiled a little anyway. “The banshee, Lydia, was my door back to the living. I wasn’t intending to have her as a backup plan when I bit her. I just wanted another beta, one that I could control.” He shook his head, because he knew how bad that sounded.

“Is that why you don’t have a pack?” Carina asked, her voice soft.

“I have Stiles,” Peter said immediately, and Stiles turned his head toward him with a shocked expression. “When I came back, I wasn’t an alpha anymore. My nephew had taken my power and began to build his own pack. I didn’t belong, so I didn’t stay.”

“Then I came along and made his life complete,” Stiles said, hugging Peter around the middle and propping his chin on his head. 

Peter rolled his eyes, even though that was pretty much exactly it. “He found a way to turn me into an alpha again, and here we are.” That made Stiles hug him a bit tighter.

Carina seemed to be speechless, looking between the two of them and trying to wrap her brain about this new information. “Okay,” she said eventually, unfolding her legs and letting her feet drop to the floor. “Tomorrow at like eight?” Apparently she was just going accept this knowledge and move on. 

“Sounds good,” Peter told her, tugging and squealing Stiles into his lap.

* * *

Peter followed Carina to the plot of land in his car, pretty sure she wasn’t weaving in and out of traffic on her crotch rocket because she didn’t want to lose him. She pulled onto a dirt road, leading into a thicket of trees, before she slowed and stopped. Peter parked behind her, getting out as she pulled off her helmet and shook out her short hair. She unzipped her leather jacket and left it with the bike. She was wearing a tank and yoga pants, a good outfit for running around in.

Peter had an old tee and sweat pants, figuring it would be okay if they got blood on them or torn to bits. He didn’t have to ask if they were running in partially shifted forms. If Carina had been able to go full wolf, he would have been able to sense it. Her power was softer, mild like an omega’s, minus the madness.

“Ready to get wild?” Carina asked, toeing off her shoes and leaving them by the bike.

“Yes,” Peter replied, undoing the laces of his shoes and setting them on the hood of his car. He bundled up his socks inside of them.

“This way,” Carina said, walking across the gravel and dirt toward the trees. Peter followed her, hissing softly as rocks dug into the soles of his feet. Carina grinned at him over her shoulder. “Aww, does the big bad alpha wolf have sensitive feetsies?” 

“Shut up,” Peter shot back, even though he was smiling.

“You’ll have to make me,” she said as her face twisted, fangs coming out and brow gaining ridges, before she shot off into the trees.

Grinning, Peter let the wolf come out a little, changing his face as his teeth descended and his claws popped out. He took off after Carina, easily tracking her scent and expanding his hearing to catch her breathing. He caught up to her after a minute, diving at her and catching her around the middle.

They went down and started to grapple, growling and rolling around with each other. The scent of blood filled the air as they scratched at exposed skin, though they healed in moments. Peter caught Carina’s wrists and pinned her, leaning over her and breathing in her face. She gave him a toothy grin. He returned it, before he released her and ran off, leading the chase this time. 

They went for hours, pursuing and tackling each other. Peter definitely tore his shirt in at least one spot, and Carina’s yoga pants now had a hole in the knee. At one point they caught a hare and tore into it, pulling it in half and devouring it raw, getting blood on their chins, necks and teeth. They howled without care of people hearing them, their voices echoing through the trees. By the time they’d run the property and tuckered themselves out, the moon had crossed the sky.

Peter was starfished in a small clearing with Carina next to him, using his bicep as a pillow. He couldn’t stop smiling. He felt so in tune with his wolf that he couldn’t tell where it ended and he began. It was content enough to pull back and rest, leaving him with his human face.

Carina let out a sigh. “I knew this would be fun,” she said, turning and throwing her arm over Peter’s chest and her leg over his thighs. It was a comfortable kind of sprawl, almost a familial cuddle. 

Peter put his arm around Carina’s back. “Yeah, you were definitely right.”

They were quiet for a while, just breathing into the night air. Then Carina tilted her head up. “So,” she started, and he folded his arm under his head and looked down at her. “When are you and Stiles going to tie the knot?”

Unable to help himself, Peter smiled. “Was that a pun?” 

Carina stared at him a long moment, before her face went red. “No!”

Peter laughed. “Stiles is too young to get married,” he said, though it wasn’t really an answer to the question. He’d thought about it, even fantasized putting a ring on one of those long, slim fingers, but it was ages before the time was right.

“But you two love each other?” Carina asked, blinking dark brown eyes at him. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And a nose.”

Peter winced. He and Stiles had gotten used to wearing each other’s scents. Maybe they should cool it with smelling like sex around someone who could easily detect it. “I’ve told him I love him, that I want him as my mate,” he said, looking at the moon where it was settled against the treetops. “He’s still figuring out how he feels.”

“Oh, I’d say he loves you,” Carina told him, sounding confident. 

“How do you know?” 

“You know how you can’t help but look at him like he’s the most amazing thing on legs?” 

“Yes.” It was embarrassing, really.

“He does the same thing when you’re focusing on something else,” Carina informed him. “If he were a werewolf, you’d think you’d hung the moon and taught him to howl at it.”

Peter gazed straight up at the stars, his lips spreading into a smile despite himself. “Well, how about that?”

* * *

It was after ten on a Saturday, and the day had been fruitful. Peter had done a few flash designs and one original piece, and Carina had worked on a sleeve almost all day. Peter let Carina go home early since she’d done so much, and she’d hugged him on the way out. They were still feeling like bonded pack since the full moon, and Peter hoped it never ended.

“I’m bored,” Stiles whined, turning Peter on his stool and climbing into his lap, straddling him. 

“And that means bothering me?” Peter asked, putting down his pencil and grabbing Stiles under his butt to hoist him up a bit higher. Stiles grinned as he locked his ankles behind Peter, and Peter buried his face into Stiles’s neck, breathing in his scent. He was never going to get over that earthy smell with a hint of ozone and cinnamon.

“Yes, it does,” Stiles replied, raking his nails over the back of Peter’s neck and making him shiver. “Close the shop early. Let’s go out.” 

Peter made a show of considering it, even though they both knew he couldn’t say no to Stiles. “Where to?” He set his teeth against Stiles’s earlobe, tugging it. He needed to convince Stiles to pierce these, maybe even stretch them, so he could play with the jewelry. 

“There are so many clubs near here we can go to. We can even hop if we get bored of one,” Stiles said, rocking his crotch against Peter’s lower stomach. “I’ve got all this excess energy. I want to dance it off.”

Peter dug his fingers into Stiles’s backside. “Or I could take you home and fuck it out of you,” he suggested with a wolfish grin.

“That sounds awesome, but I still want to dance,” Stiles said, smiling like the asshole he was. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want me blasting dubstep in your apartment. Let’s go a club. You can fuck me senseless afterward.” 

Sighing like he was extremely put out, Peter gave Stiles’s butt a swat. “Fine, let’s go.”

After locking up, Peter allowed Stiles to drag him by the hand toward the nightlife part of the city, which wasn’t too far away. They passed by the Blue Moon karaoke bar and kept going until Stiles stopped and pointed. 

“There!” he said dramatically, indicating to a nightclub called Players. 

Peter blew out a breath. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and he was caught by the hand and pulled inside. It was good that they hadn’t needed to wait in any sort of line, probably because the night was still young. But Peter would have chewed his own arm off in a line. 

The music was some breathily singing pop star with a heavy beat, and Stiles was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, apparently eager to get onto the floor with all the flailing bodies. Were those glow sticks? Why were there glow sticks?

“Dance with me!” Stiles called over the long music, trying to pull Peter into the fray. 

Peter groaned and dug in his heels. He leaned in to be heard over the noise. “You go dance. I’m going to get a drink.” He refused to give into Stiles’s pretty begging eyes and pouty bottom lip. “Rum and Coke for you?” 

“Yes, please,” Stiles said, before he turned and moved into the crowd.

Peter moved over to the bar, ordering a shot of whiskey for himself and the Bacardi and Coke for Stiles. He got up onto the bar stool and looked out onto the floor, eyes zeroing in on his mate. Stiles danced a bit like he did everything else. It was spastic and silly, but it was very endearing and even kind of hot. Stiles had narrow hips and a nice ass. It didn’t take much to be sexy when all you had to do was shake what you had been given.

Watching Stiles dance was satisfying. He threw his whole body into it, and Peter couldn’t help but lick his lips, because he knew what that body could do when it was naked and underneath him. Stiles was like Jello on springs. (Peter was old enough to make that reference.)

As Peter watched, Stiles danced with a few different people, shimmying with a girl here, spinning a girl there, and French dipping another girl there. He almost dropped her, and they had a nice laugh over it. It was all pretty amusing to watch. That is, until a man, tall and shirtless with platinum blond hair, stepped up to Stiles and murmured something in his ear. Peter couldn’t here, not over the thumping music, but he could see the flush on Stiles’s cheeks.

Stiles glanced at Peter, before he smiled, and oh what an evil smile it was. Then he nodded to the other man, who immediately put his hands on Stiles’s ass and started to grind against him. 

Peter was pretty sure his eyes went red for a fraction of a second. He set his glass down so he didn’t break it and watched as Stiles turned and pressed his ass against the man’s crotch. Welp, that was enough of that.

Peter steamrolled through the crowd, uncaring if he put anyone on their ass, because someone was touching his Stiles, and he was not cool with that. “Excuse me,” he said, pulling Stiles against him and pushing the intruder back a few paces. “Get your own.” He frowned as Stiles laughed in his ear.

“Didn’t know he was taken, dude,” the guy said, putting his hands up and backing away. He blended back in with the crowd.

Peter looked at Stiles, who was grinning much like the cat who got the cream. “You did that purposely, didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did,” Stiles said, putting his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “I know about that possessive streak of yours, and I like to see it come out.” He started to pull Peter back towards the bar.

“Do you now? Do you want me to stake a claim? I could jerk off on your face right here, but we’ll probably get arrested.” Peter grinned as Stiles laughed. “That one’s yours,” he said pointing to the rum and Coke sitting on the bartop.

Stiles picked up his drink, chugging it in a few gulps and leaving nothing but ice, before he grabbed Peter’s hand. “C’mon, Squishywolf, let’s go indulge in that possessive streak. I want to show you just how much I am yours.”

Peter figured that meant leaving and going back home, but Stiles dragged him right past the exit and to the bathrooms. Smirking, Peter let Stiles take the lead. “This reminds me of my glory hole days,” he said as he was pulled past the urinals and into a stall. 

“There’s an app for that now,” Stiles said as he pushed Peter up against the wall of the stall and dropped to his knees. 

“What?” Peter asked, trying to ignore the smell of cheap soap and piss as Stiles’s deft fingers opened his belt and got his semi-hard dick out. 

“An app for your phone that shows what glory holes are active that day,” Stiles replied, pumping Peter’s dick to get it fully erect. “And who’s there.”

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose--nngh _fuck._ ” Peter let his head fall back as Stiles sucked the head of his cock between his plush lips. Stiles’s mouth was sinfully hot, his tongue wet and tugging at Peter’s piercing. He set his hand on the back of Stiles’s head, holding but otherwise not directing him.

Stiles gave sloppy head, the kind where saliva and precome dribbled down his chin. The noises he made were obscene and loud. There was no way they could disguise what they were doing. Peter heard a few foot falls outside of the stall, but no one seemed to care about Peter’s heavy breathing and Stiles’s muffled moans.

“Stiles,” he breathed out, running his nails along Stiles’s scalp, rocking his hips gently to the rhythm of his mouth. “That’s good.” He licked his lips, pulling Stiles’s head closer to him. Stiles’s eyes clenched tighter, and he swallowed a few time, but he took Peter’s cock into his throat like a champ. “So good, just like that.”

He started to actually thrust into of just rocking his hips, and Stiles moaned hard, lifting his gaze. His eyes were a bit wet, glassy, and he was hollowing his cheeks like he could suck Peter’s brains out of his dick. Peter let his claws pop out, scratching some lines in the cheap blue paint on the stall wall. 

“I’m close,” he murmured minutes later, the pleasure building in the pit of his stomach. His balls were drawing up, ready to empty a load into Stiles’s throat. 

But then Stiles pulled back with a loud pop, reaching up to jerk Peter off in tight, fast movements of his fist. “Come on my face,” he said in the dirtiest whisper imaginable. “C’mon, Peter, I want it.”

Well how could Peter possibly deny him. He smacked the back of his head against the stall wall and let out a deep moan, coming in thick threads of white across Stiles’s cheek and eye, which was closed. As Peter got his breath back, he watched Stiles reach up and rub the come into his skin as best he could. He scooped the bit over his eye off and sucked the flavor from his fingers. When he was done, he grinned up at Peter.

“Little shit,” Peter said, getting a hold on him and pulling him up so he could kiss the hell out of him. He cupped him through his jeans, swallowing his moan, before he got his pants undone and pulled him off quickly.

Peter licked at his come covered hand, before he grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper for the rest. Stiles was leaning against his front, chin on his chest and grinning up at him in a satisfied way. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Let’s dance,” Stiles crooned at him, pleased with himself.

“If we must,” Peter agreed and let himself be dragged back onto the floor with all the dancing bodies.

It took a few tries, but Peter got a hang of the right kind of dancing, undulating his body with Stiles’s. They danced through several songs, and Stiles’s panting was music to Peter’s ears. He licked sweat from Stiles’s neck, digging his fingers into his hips. 

Later, at the bar, Peter and Stiles were sitting side by side on a pair of stools, their feet tangled together. Stiles was on his fourth drink, and he looked to be feeling it, all flushed and full of smiles. 

Stiles caught hold of Peter’s shirt and dragged him closer to say into his ear, “I’m sorry I haven’t be able to say it yet.”

Peter didn’t have to think very hard about what he meant. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s cheek. “I can wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Working through all my ideas. I have at least two more, including more tattoos and a slowly growing pack. If you have a simple idea, hit me up!
> 
> Next update by **5/17/15.**
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr.](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/)


End file.
